This post originally appeared at talanhorne.com
Some blog posts are so informative, its scary!
Bad puns! Bad horror-themed puns everywhere!
Now, depending on your outlook, this may be a highly sensitive subject for you. Not everyone reads books to experience fear, and more than a few people go out of their way to avoid it. A lot of people who use reading for escapism naturally want to read stories that lift, inspire, and sweeten their lives. These people are not enticed by scary stories.
The horror. THE HORROR!
As a matter of fact, neither have I.But on the short list of writers who have "made it big," Mr. King often ranks near the top, sharing the uppermost clouds with names like Dan Brown and J.K. Rowling, except his clouds are far more numerous and made of more expensive materials.
And yet, Stephen King's works are best known for conjuring feelings of fear and dread, except, of course, for when they become unintentionally hilarious.
What can be said about this movie that wasn't already said by the Nostalgia Critic? Go watch his YouTube video review after you finish reading this post (Warning: not appropriate for children).
Obviously, there's something to be said for works that instill the audience with a looming sense of the spooks.But, apart from that, fear provides something to the reader. There are, of course, people in the real world who live in fear, sometimes constantly. In some ways, life is a dialog between us and the things we fear, and the simulation we get through fear literature is something of a preparation, or even a coping mechanism, with this feeling that, left unchecked, can completely control us.
As a writer, you need to put interesting characters in terrible situations. It puts the reader on edge and makes them worry over the fate of these people you created. That kind of investment keeps the pages turning. So while inspiration may be the most personally-transformative emotion you can give your reader, fear is the best at reinforcing the illusion you are weaving around them.
"Fear us, puny mortals!"
All these fears can make great stories. Dangerous animals are a good challenge for your protagonist. Dead bodies are intimidating. Not to mention dangerous criminals, as well as the more surreal fears---ghosts, monsters or the devil himself.But I am here to tell you that none of those things matter.
"Whaaaaaaaaat?"
Yes, this lesson comes with a twist. For in my studies I have made a startling discovery---one that will change everything you know about your own feelings.Are your ready? Then take a look at this:
The fear of spiders and the fear of wide-open spaces are the same fear, justified with two different explanations, after the fact, because the victim finds it better to have some kind of explanation, rather than acknowledge that they can't quite grasp this huge thing they are feeling.
The fear of birthday clowns and the fear of airplanes are also the same fear, wearing two different faces.
These things are all tied together by a secret. Do you want to know what it is?
Mr. Devil's Advocate: "He's a devil and an advocate? What am I doing with my life?"
To begin with, let's talk about what I actually mean.I am not talking about permanent, physical, visual impairment. Yes, I'm sure some people are afraid of going blind in that manner. But I have no experience in that dimension, and am talking about something that covers a lot more than a single sense.
Growing up, human beings quickly learn that the world is full of dangers. And with even a little experience, they realize that many of those dangers cannot be perceived until it is too late.
Spiders are frightening for this reason. They wouldn't be so bad if you knew where they were at all times, but you can't. And it always seems like they're coming out of nowhere. Even after they appear, and you're staring right at them, you are paralyzed by what you can't see. They stand perfectly still. You can't see their heartbeat or guess their future movements. After waiting long enough, they scurry up walls in a way that boggles your perception, or they plummet from the ceiling on invisible tethers.
Sharks are also terrifying because you can't see them. They slither through the water, just under the surface. They could be salivating onto your ankles, and you would never know.
The same goes for ghosts and snakes and stalkers. Once they make their appearance, then all other emotions give way to the fight or flight response, where exhilaration, panic, or rage take over. Before that, there is only fear.
But it is not the only kind.
No? Hm, that makes my job so much harder. Let me try to explain it, then.
When you are a child, you are afraid of many, many things. If you were anything like me, then you were afraid that dinosaurs were going to break into your house. And you woke up in the middle of the night, inconsolable, because you knew that dinosaurs had gotten into your house and were going to claw your family to pieces before your eyes.
And, after making a lot of commotion, your mom and dad hear your lamentations, and come to your room to comfort you.
Imagine, you who never had a childhood, the kinds of things they say to their distraught little toddler. The only rational approach is to educate the child, let them know, with parental assertiveness, that there are no dinosaurs anymore, that the scary night terrors aren't real and can't possibly hurt anyone. Wouldn't you agree that this is the best way to turn back the imaginary terrors?
Wow, you really are an idiot.
Your parents aren't going to tell you that there are no dinosaurs. Or ghosts. Or gremlins. Or vampires. They're smarter than that. And after years and years of dealing with your childish nightmares, they've wised up to this one most important rule about fear:
When you tell someone that monsters don't exist, it makes them more afraid of monsters.
If your parents are stupid enough to tell you that dinosaurs aren't real, you immediately think, Of course they're real! They were in this room just two minutes ago. And then the real fear---the one that traumatizes you forever---sets in:
Your mom and dad are not going to protect you from the dinosaurs.
They don't see them. Or, if they see them, then they don't care. When it comes to dinosaurs, you're on your own, kid.
And, in that moment, all the psychotherapists on Earth raise their hands and rejoice, for on this night a customer is born.
That's why all GOOD parents know that, instead of denying their child's fear, they walk them through it. Dad checks under the bed to make sure no dinosaurs got down there. Mom opens the closet so you can see that the dinosaurs all got away. Then they tuck you into the covers with your teddy bear, and your glow bug, and that rune-graven sword that the old wizard gave you for the express purpose of defending your family from dinosaurs, and suddenly all is right with the world.
They make really good examples, because they are both things that most people don't have problems with. Because you're the only person who is afraid of flying. Sorry, but it's the truth.
Everyone else on the entire plane is acting like nothing's wrong. They don't know that they're all about to die screaming, killing each other to get to the exit, but it's no use BECAUSE THEY'RE ALL GOING TO DIE. And you're the only one who knows it.
Everyone else is wrong. They're all so content to let it happen, but you don't have to die. If you make a scene, if you stand up and shriek in the aisle, they will take this murder tube back to the airport and set you free. Do it. Do it now!
The same goes for clowns. To everyone else, they're so approachable. But you know something is up. Don't get close. Quick, draw your rune-graven sword.
The second template is best exemplified by the "dystopian horror" genre. In a world where everyone tacitly agrees to unspeakable, institutionalized horrors, your protagonist is the only one who dares question the benevolence of the system. "I love the new technology that takes away people's need to fall asleep. What's that? You don't like the new technology? Why would you even say that? Don't you like how much more productive you are? Don't you know that the Malefico corporation is only looking out for us? Why do you hate good things?"
The end result is the one sane person left in the universe, fighting to run against the tide of the mindless mob.
The rest of the world has all become zombies. You are the only one left who still has their soul.
It comes from a TV show.
"Terror at 20000 Feet" is perhaps the most iconic episode of The Twilight Zone, a classic science fiction anthology series. In this particular outing, the main character is a man who is flying home after a lengthy stay in a mental institution. The doctors say he is all better, but during the flight he looks outside his plane window and sees a hideous humanoid monster on the wing of the plane. Eventually, the creature starts savaging the wing, attempting to bring the plane down. And the man knows he cannot be too assertive about the existence of the creature, seeing as how no one will believe him, anyway.
This sketch is particularly effective because it leaves the audience guessing which of the two kinds of fear is at play. Is the protagonist blind, unable to discern that the real danger is his own madness? Or is he the only one who can truly see, and everyone else is blind to the horror that lurks outside the plane?
In a desperate bid to scare the monster off, the man opens the plane's boarding door in mid flight, endangering everyone on board. Surely he is the only monster here. But wait: after the plane lands, the technicians discover damage on the wings of the craft, just like the man said there was. Both kinds of fear are present in this story, but which of them is the real one? That the episode keeps the audience guessing until the end is its strongest virtue.
Yep, if you really want to kill your scary story, just do what M. Night Shyamalan does. Because you can never be better at this than he is. Not even if you tried with all your heart and lived for a thousand years.
This film is the exact opposite of "Terror at 20000 Feet", in that it reverses the equation. Where The Twilight Zone episode tantalized the audience, presenting both kinds of fear but forcing them to choose which one they were seeing, this movie nullifies both sides by making them equal---the hero and the rest of the world are blind, all at the same time.
In other words, something is "happening," but no one can tell you what it is. Certainly not the people who saw the movie.
It is not the story of one man running against the complacently wicked world.
It is not the story of a malevolent, invisible world closing in on one man.
It's the story of people stumbling in the dark. Yeah, some of them get hurt (as people would when they stumble in said darkness), but there's nothing all that menacing about it. The hero has no reason to doubt himself, since everyone else is literally having the same problem. And he has no reason to doubt everyone else, because he is in the same boat as they are. It's a paragon of non-intimidation.
...reign of horror!
